Dissonance
by SashaLikaMusica
Summary: Darkness is the absence of light, but with your eyes tightly closed, is it the Schrodinger's cat of sight? Solid black and vacant white; the only parts of the spectrum that she has ever known, but the absence of what once made her whole may show Beca that something can be gained of learning to see the grey. Comfort is impossible, but maybe this grief can crack open her eyes.


**A/N: This is what happens when you combine b-rated Brittany Snow movies with T.S. Eliot. And feels. This part's short and (bitter)sweet, but I would love to hear your thoughts.**

 **A Chloe-centric fic with Beca in the middle. Told in alternating and intersecting points of view.**

 **The prologue to something longer if you all express enough interest.  
**

* * *

From the grand piano, discordant notes fell in unsteady droplets, wavering as they descended, shattering into infinite flecks and shards upon crashing into the hardwood floor. Her hands danced fleetingly, ivory against ivory, contrasted with ebony. Out the open window into the rain fled the dissonance, the muffled cries and broken, cracking sobs. She kept her eyes closed, her lavender lids unmoving, unblinking.

 _Between the conception_

 _And the creation_

There was no sound besides the fractured music, and the hoarse, repetitive sniffles, and the echoing rain.

 _Between the emotion_

 _And the response_

 _Falls the Shadow_

Blood slipped onto the ivory from the places where the skin of her weathered hands had worn through. She did not feel it; she could not even sense the pain. All the space for thought, for feeling, for the mutest of sensations, was being suctioned away by memory.

 _Life is very long_

Pale, wrinkled eyelids still softly closed, she declined to fight the visions that filtered in like dazzled sunlight through the top of a cloud. It was dark, but she could see her, _feel_ her even, touching her through the crevices in the air. A waft of faint scent, a gentle brush of vibrant hair, so tender it was hardly real. A whisper through the dark, encompassing her sight and mind and burning through her ears, _"I knew you'd come."_

Without permission, there came the escape of a broken sob, and her head dropped to the piano lid, though her fingers still moved unwillingly.

 _Between the desire_

 _And the spasm_

"Chloe," she whispered pitifully, the scrounging word a failing whimper as strands of dark chestnut hair filtered over the grief-stained keys.

" _My Beca. I knew you'd come for me."_ A knife, glimmering on the edge of the ancient lid, handle grimy and antique with eons of being observed. Her closed eyes were drawn to it, even in the shadows. A flash of hope, lipstick stained, to be replaced by waves of lethargy. She had promised her, endless eyes washed over with blatant honesty. She had promised her.

 _Between the potency_

 _And the existence_

"Chloe," she whimpered again, though the name now was half-lost, lingering trippingly on the infinite edges of her tongue, dancing to the end and back again. Limitless. Empty. All she felt was the absence. Dark was the absence of the light, they told her; dark was the absence of the light. _Her_ light. Tiny, energetic light filled with sunspots of cobalt eyes and delighted squeals and tight, exuberant hugs.

It was not dark, she decided; it was only that the light had gone, and now there was nothing left but the abyss to fill its place.

 _Between the essence_

 _And the descent_

 _Falls the Shadow_

She was breaking, numbing; her chafed fingertips still tap-danced across the keys in an anguished ballet, an intolerably vacant dance.

 _For Thine is the Kingdom_

Her red-rimmed eyes blinked slowly open, shades of thunder and sky blue and shattered, tear-filled sapphire. Across the room, limbs arranged easily along the bends of a forgotten armchair; the eyes fancied they caught a glimpse of a lithe, slender figure. The long legs unfolded, crossed the room; she knelt down before her broken lover. In contrast to the paleness of the washed-out creature, she was bright and radiating life.

Even in death, she was more alive than most could ever hope to be.

 _For Thine is_

 _"_ _Beca."_ Her voice echoed, transparent, lingering for a moment in her ears before it lifted away back into the absence from whence it came. _"My love. Let it go for me."_ Another scattered, uncollected sob, almost a sniffle now; less energy. A fierce shaking of the head, pain doubling where her temple pressed into the wood. Chloe's sad smile, the back of her hand tenderly brushing the hollow, wasted cheek.

 _"_ _I miss you so."_

 _Life is_

"Chloe, I can't." A desperate plea, hopeless tone. The hand dropped away, and her lover stood.

 _For Thine is the_

"I can't!" Her head shooting up now, only to fall back down, too weary. One last, sad look, and a longing smile.

 _"_ _Yes you can, Beca. For me."_ She had faded slowly – she was gone.

 _This is the way the world ends_

"Chloe!" The strangled cry barely left her throat; it was stopped by an unseen force. Her eyes slid closed once more. "Chloe." Barely a murmur. Her hands continued to move.

 _This is the way the world ends_

The rain continued, endless in its pattering onto every surface, unavoidable. Beca did not move, unable to be sheltered from it. The disharmony of the anguished melody played on.

Back straight, eyes closed, she would not let go, not of the music; not at all.

 _This is the way the world ends_

Sprinkled lights, discordant harmony. Grief of posture and blacklisted melody, the song went on. Would not let go. Fell to the solemn end of a phrase – paused, went on. She found herself singing to it in a daze, words in a language unknown to anyone, unfounded, uncategorized. A final, lasting note, wrong, unfitting for the air, and it was gone. She did not open her eyes. _Let go for me_.

The last fragmented threads of consciousness trailed away, worn by wind and time and use. A heartbeat stuttered, crested; halted. A stillness seized veins as the blood ceased to flow.

 _Not with a bang, but a whimper._


End file.
